


Noctober 2017

by KannAyasaki



Category: Original Work
Genre: A lots of metaphors, Different prompt each day, Fantasy, Light Angst, Metaphors, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Poetry, Tag to be updated as the story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-07 21:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannAyasaki/pseuds/KannAyasaki
Summary: Noctober--the word comes from two words, Note and October. With a different prompt given each day, write your own story for the whole October.It's a series of short story I'll write for the whole month. I hope you'll enjoy it! :)





	1. Her History

**Day One: Under the Street Lamp**

****

A lone street lamp, standing in the corner of one abandoned street. The yellow lamp flickering in the dark of the night, silently watching the history of a young girl in blue.

First summer, in the middle of July, sleeping with a bead of sweat staining her round cheek, curled uncomfortably in the hold of a woman with grey hair. She didn't move more than turning her tiny head when the grey woman put her on the street lamp feet, not sparing as much as a glance when she walked away.

Seventh spring, at the end of April, walking slowly with her left foot dragged behind her. A man seemingly on his late fifty stared at her back, slowly following a trail of brown mixed with warm-scented spring soil. He puffed a grey smoke, before turning back and resuming his walk with both hands buried deep inside his leather jacket pocket, missing the young girl collided with the street lamp and nearly toppled over newly blooming flower.

Sixteenth fall, September inched toward October, trapped between the hold of a young boy in a fancy green coat, her face disappeared in the crook of pale white neck. Soft whisper exchanged between a hundred dollars cloth and one penny of a silk, no louder than the fluttering leaves dancing around their home trees. Her back pressed hard against the street lamp when the young man cracked a smiled, captured her lips in a long kiss.

Twentieth winter, right on the beginning of December, running hapharzardly in the middle of unexpected storm with a thin hoodie fluttering in the wind. Her hair disheveled and white, a hint of neat braid now gone in tangled mess of brown. She passed through with a clank, when a pile of loose white sheet jumped away from her hand and hitting the street lamp before landing in the snow with a soft thump.

Twenty-forth fall, a quarter into September, smiling brightly with her hands clanking against each other, front teeth missing a pair. One little kid tried and failing to hide behind thin iron bar, curious eyes following faded orange dress swinging frantically. The kid squeaked like a rat, digging his heel hard into a pile of rotten leaves and dashed forward, not missing a loud crack when she hit the street lamp with her stained forehead.

Twenty-fifth winter, at the peak of January, eyes blinking lazily under the bursts of rainbow in the night sky. A couple with their hands safely inside each other walked past, watching her chest rise and fall in a synchronized movement. One of the pair hesitantly tightened their hold on a warm brown paper bag in his free hand, when a loud siren noise blasting to the sky, followed by another burst of gold rivaling that of the stars. The others then gently lead their sweetheart toward the end of the street, not breaking eye contact with her now spiraled against the street lamp.

Twenty-fifth autumn, on the young days of May, sitting peacefully and nearly buried by a soft pile of yellow leaves. A grandmother with walking cane as old as the country slowly inched toward her, humming familiar tunes no one can no longer put a name to. She walked past her in a steady slow pace, leaving a piece of cranberry pie atop of her head, barely missing the fall to the land before leaned on the rusty street lamp.

Twenty-fifth summer, barely there at July, curled under the sky with two tattered scarfs held tightly between pale fingers. Several bugs buzzing around the lamp, promptly scattered when an old woman emerged from the end of the street. A pair of bright, blue eyes slowly opened, watching the street lamp flicker dangerously toward its inevitable end, before turning her head to watch the women slowly treaded the old path. She blinked, once, twice, smiled, and went to sleep.

The lamp flicker for another second. And then it goes dark, letting the bugs flied away toward the end of the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's alredy October which means it mark 2 years of me not writing anything, haha! So I decided I must do something related to writing before this year end, and here we are! This is actually part of a challenge a writing community on my country set up. It's called Noctober--something akin to Inktober but for writing. I decided to post it here too because, well it's such a shame that I have a writing account but never filled it with anything. The only stories I post is a real ancient fanfiction I write a looooooong time ago and I swear I'm so ashamed seeing them, but can't quite get myself to actually delete them. So anyway, I really hope I can finish this challenge all the way until the end of October. Whoever you are reading this, thank you so much for your visit, and I hope you enjoy my writing!


	2. A World With Glowy Tiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At dawn, at noon, at dusk, at night,  
> I had a dream.

**Day Two: Magic**

****

At dawn, I dreamed about a world with glowy tiles.

People walking on top of countless tiles, square to a perfect, forty to forty,  
One feet after another, toe landing right in the middle of each square,  
And with every step, each tiles burst into a color of neon.

At noon, I dreamed abut a world with glowy tiles.

With every passing person, following them is a trail of glowing neon,  
Emerald, cyan, ivory,  
Filling the world with line of neon going to every end of the horizon.

At dusk, I dreamed about a world with glowy tiles.

Tiles glowing in a pulse, bright neon fading into colorless tiles,  
And with every feet leaving them, the tiles hum a tune,  
Following each person like a reversed Pied Piper of Hamelin.

At night, I dreamed about a world with glowy tiles.

Everyone walking their own path, leaving a trail of humming neon that glows for seconds before descending into a silent colorless tiles,  
Cinnamon, tangerine, vermillion,  
So I look back, and I saw the tiles humming a bright purple trail.


	3. Let's Fill It To The Brim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I started to collect all the stones.

**Day Three: Good Score**

****

The smiling faces floated around me, as my tiny body being lifted to the air by countless hands, sound of clapping filled the air.

I couldn't help but smiled, too. I feel like a queen, and a queen I was indeedーa bright tiara made of gold sparkling on my head, and I kept my head straight with proud. The little stiff around the base of my neck didn't bother me a bit.

But when I was just starting to marvel in all the love and attention, I already found myself on the ground. The smiling faces turned away, the clapping noises faded, everyone was leaving. Someone snatched the golden tiara from my head, and my heart sank.

No.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't _right_.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, collecting all the stone that had started to apear in front of me. I looked around, another children with white bag already appeared, and some of them already had their bag half-filled. I quickly slapped my faceーI need to focus. I need to collect all this stones. More, more, more, more, more, more

before they left me alone inside The Tunnel.

Finally, my bag could no longer hold another stone. I took a deep breathe, knowing all too well that it's still too early to get relaxed. And just as I thought, there were ten children lined up in front of me, their white bag filled to the the brim. I looked up and see the clock hands almost meet at the number 12.

No.

This wouldn't do.

I hurriedly took another stone, and with all my strength, tried to fit it into my bag.

It wouldn't budge.

I didn't allow a single cry to escape my lips. That'll be unacceptable. I took a deep breathe, and once again, with all my strength, tried to squeeze the stone inside my bag.

This time, with the help of gravity and the momentum of a swing.

A loud crack echoed around me, a loud sound that I knew won't reach anyone but me. The tip of my fingers had started to turn red, but I kept swinging the stone inside. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Until finally, with one drop of red on it, the stone sliped into the bag.

I smiled widely. And when I lift my face, there were no longer ten children in front of meーnow there were only nine. And as the clock ticked into a vertical line, our bag started to glow, changing its color into whatever color it was that they embedded into our skin, right below the nape.

And when I opened my eyes, the smiling faces already floated around me. Countless hands lift me up, clapping sounds filled my ear, a tiara placed into my head.

And again, before I knew it, I'm back to the ground.

I looked around. Children with _green_ bag had apeared, and they already started to collect the stones.

I quitely stand, not minding the stiffness on my neck or the sting in my eyes.

I started to collect all the stones.


	5. Another Rainy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drip, drop, drip  
> What is it for today?

**Day Four: Rainy Day**

****

Drip, drop, drip

Quiet sound of the rain hitting my window  
What is it for today, what is it for today?  
I opened the window, extending my hand,

Clear water of Nile pooling in my palm

 

 

Drip, drop, drip

Quiet sound of the rain hitting my window  
What is it for today, what is it for today?  
I opened the window, tilting my head,

Sharp scent of acid digging crater on my cheek

 

 

Drip, drop, drip

Quiet sound of the rain hitting my window  
What is it for today, what is it for today?  
I opened the window, stretching my tongue,

Iron taste of red sticking to my mouth

 

 

Drip, drop, drip

Quiet sound of the rain hitting my window

What is it for today,

What is it for today?


End file.
